You and Gibbs
by Fictional Reality
Summary: This is written in first person, making you the main character with Gibbs. Give me some feedback so I know whether it works or not. Thanks. Rated for language and some mild sexual content. Written from a female perspective. COMPLETE and edited!
1. Simple Recon

This is one of my favourite stories, so I've redone the first chapter to improve the flow.  
I hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed imagining and creating it.

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Crouching in the darkness of the shadow of a tree I can see Gibbs lying flat on the ground, his gun at the ready

Crouching in the darkness of the shadow of a tree I can see Gibbs lying flat on the ground, his gun at the ready. He's in the undergrowth, I can only see him because of the moonlight filtering through the leaves of overhanging branches. He's watching a group of men through the dense greenery. He looks so natural in that position, it's as if he were born to do this.

They're Hamas, the men I mean, at least that's what Ziva's intelligence says. Gibbs didn't 'invite' her along because she'd probably kill them all without any provocation. Understandable seeing as her sister Tali was killed during a Hamas suicide bombing. I'm his back up tonight instead, not that I'm complaining.

He does not signal to me, he just moves forward. I'm unsure whether that's because he doesn't want to give his or my position away or whether he just doesn't care if I know or not. What the hell are we even doing out here just the two of us? This is definitely insane, or in the very least it isn't on the books. I try not to shift from one foot to the other in the cold. This is meant to be a simple reconnaissance mission. Why is he moving forward?

I have my orders, "Watch my six." he'd said to me. Does he even have permission for this mission? I suddenly doubt it. Gripping my gun tighter I want to move forward to stop him but know that will be damaging for my health. i.e. he'll murder me. So I stand and wait for... some sort of signal. He disappears from view and I wonder what he wants me to do.

How the hell am I meant to watch his ass if I can't see it! I grit my teeth and after careful examination of my surroundings I move forward as noiselessly as possible, my eyes going in every direction at once, picking up even the slightest movement through the trees.

I feel like I'm being watched but I know I'm responsible for him and I can't see anything or anyone so I sidle up to where he was positioned and crouch low trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The moonlight is enough to give away my position and it unnerves me to feel so exposed.

I look behind me, trees and branches as far as the eye can see, I muse. I hope I can find my way back. I turn to look through the underbrush and start as I come face to face with Gibbs.

Fuck, I almost shot him. I breath a sigh of relief because I didn't. I give him a glare, but at the same time I admire his stealth.

He doesn't look particularly surprised that I followed him, but I can tell he knows that he spooked me. There's something in his face that says he knows I almost shot him and he's glad that I'm not trigger happy.

He looks me straight in the eye and I wonder if his knees are aching like mine. Jethro signals to me that we're leaving and I can't help but be damn glad that we are. I nod my acknowledgement and wait for him to take point. I wait several seconds so to anyone watching it looks like he's alone and then I follow keeping to the shadows, my gun at the ready. The warmed metal is like a security blanket in my hands in the cold uncertain night.

I've lost him but I can see the way we came in and I tell myself that it's not yet time to panic. No matter how many missions I've been on the exhilaration is always fresh. I love being out on the job. Great, now I'm smiling while in a potentially dangerous situation. If Gibbs can see me he probably thinks I'm nuts but I can't help but love this job.

Wait.

I drop to my knees behind a tree. I hear a footstep and then another. Far too heavy to be Gibbs' and it was coming from the wrong direction. Praying he doesn't see me I wait patiently for him to reveal himself. I'm sure its a he. That footstep was far to heavy to be a woman, unless it was a six foot weight lifting woman. I'm also praying that my analysis is wrong but I know after this long the sound of Gibbs' footsteps are etched into my memory. Still, there is no movement. Where the hell is Gibbs? Where's _my_ backup?

It feels like I've been waiting forever, I can't see anything. How long should I wait? Much longer and my legs will give way and I won't be able to run if I need to and staying here might give me away. I rise up slowly hugging the tree with my back and hoping against hope that he can't see me. I look out into the vast expanse of tree trunks, its not only impossible to see but also to move quietly through it. My breathing is slow and I wonder if my brain is getting any oxygen. Can you collapse your lungs if you breath out too much? I wonder. Totally irrelevant right now.

I still don't see anyone, time to go. I take a cautious step to my left and try to get my bearings. But I take too long and my heart leaps in my chest as the business end of a gun is pressed under my chin. I'm overcome by a strange calm which is perhaps creepier then panic or fear.

"Drop your gun." The man says loudly. He obviously thinks I'm alone, otherwise he would have been quieter. My neck hurts as I strain away from his weapon as he presses I firmly into my skin.

I don't hesitate to do what he asks, I know better. I scan the trees for others and find no sign of anyone. Gibbs will know by now that I'm in trouble, it's been a long time since he saw me last.

I was right it is a man, I knew I wasn't wrong, perhaps now isn't the right time to be full of glee at my personal little victory. I couldn't help myself, figuring that if he was going to kill me he would have done it already I asked the question. "What gave me away?" I could swear he smiled before answering though I couldn't see his face. "The birds." he replied and I laughed softly.

He lowers his gun to the back of my spine and pushes me forward with it. Here's my chance. I pretend to trip over an exposed branch, sprawling on the ground and rolling forward I manage to release my knife from its hiding place. I get on all fours and moan. Then I take a look at my captor, he's huge! I ignore my perceptions and wince in fake pain.

"Could you at least help me up?" I say sarcastically and he reaches out grabbing me by the arm. In doing so he lowers his gun and is caught momentarily of balance as he leans forward. I bask in the opportunity; allowing him to give me upwards momentum I then surge forward and knock his gun sideways stabbing him in the chest.

Bang! He lets off a shot. "Shit!" I spit the words, grabbing my gun and his before snatching my beloved dagger from his chest. I run fast through the woods; after all there's no point in hiding in the shadows after that deafening shot. Felt like it was right in my ear.

I'm lost I know I am! Desperately I look for a landmark or place of reference as I barrel forwards. Suddenly it hits me that a man just held a gun to my head and could have killed me and I feel the fear I should have felt moments ago. My throat feels red raw from breathing so heavily as I run.

Bam! A man leaps out of the trees and I have no room to stop. I run straight into his chest, my gun drawn. He'd moved to intercept me. I press my gun into his ribs and look him in the eyes. I'm out of breath, sweaty and damn glad to see that it's Gibbs. That's the second time in one night I almost shot him, I think we need some kind of bat signal. I immediately pull my gun back.

His face is concerned. "You hit?"he asks "No" I gasp trying in vain to catch my breath, "I'm lost." I inform him not caring if I sound stupid, I just want out. He glances at my arm and tugs my shirt pulling me after him. He runs forwards and I follow him closely. I won't lose him this time.

We finally reach his car and we both jump in. I thank God that Gibbs is driving because I'm shaking and light headed. I look over at him and hold onto the door as he accelerates crazily until we're miles away. Only then does he let off.

I'm finally catching my breath. "You alright?" He looks over at me. "Yeah." I sigh, still catching my breath. "Yes" I repeat thinking that that sounds more professional. Finding myself tense I force myself to relax.

"I lost sight of you but I knew where I was," I told him, leaning back into the seat thankfully. "I heard footsteps so I stopped and waited when..." he cut me off,

"You're hurt." He said looking away from the road and looking at my arm again. What?! I look down and now I know why I'm feeling light headed. I say nothing and pretend not to be worried. Now that we're out of danger I'm back to caring what he thinks of me. I roll up my sleeve but that doesn't work so I tear off the blood sodden cloth.

"I didn't think he'd got me" I said in wonderment, staring at the hole in my arm. I was so sure he'd shot at the ground. Suddenly I was strangely calm again, compartmentalising the screaming woman in my mind.

"If I hadn't pushed his arm away at that exact moment, I'd be dead." I reasoned aloud, almost philosophically.

Gibbs took his attention from the road again and grabbed my arm, he made an assessment and returned his gaze to the road. I put pressure on the wound.

"It's lodged in the humerus." he informed me. I'd already figured it out and I returned my gaze to the road making an effort to stay alert.

He looked at my face again and I got the distinct impression he's trying to work out what I'm thinking, as usual.

"How far is the hospital?" I say rather calmly.

"About five minutes." he replies.

I nod and hold my arm tightly. I'm already resigned to my wound but it was as if now I knew that it was there it was bloody painful. I stare out the front window, watching the lines on the road pass under the street lights. How could I not love this job? I think as I rest my head lightly against the seat.

Reviews are always appreciated.


	2. Confusion

I wish Gibbs would stop taking his eyes off the road to check up on me. I think he's putting me in more danger by not watching where he's going. There's quite a lot of blood running down my arm and my breathing is getting shallow.

Gibbs is driving pretty crazily as well, especially considering he's spending most of his time watching me. Lucky there's few cars on the road at this time of night.

Oh, oh. Things are going black. I have to stay awake, I have to...

Why couldn't the stupid bullet have gone all the way through? Crap, I'm getting blood all over his car. I think I'm going to pass out. Who knew that being shot would be such fun.

"Stay with me." Gibbs orders, shaking me gently with his hand. "We're almost there, stay awake."

I love it when he uses that tone of voice it's commanding and harsh yet beneath it all he's concerned. I love it when he's concerned although at this moment I wish he didn't have to be. But it shows he cares.

Sigh. His tone has gotten me more awake and I concentrate on the road ahead. I feel the sudden urge to vomit but I don't think he'd appreciate that in his car. Sure I could get away with it but then I'll always be the woman who threw up in his car. So, I swallow hard and try to concentrate on staying awake.

The car screeches to a halt. There's the hospital in front of us.

"I thought you said five minutes, that felt like ten." my attempt at a joke and a smile to go along with it too. But Gibbs isn't much for laughter. I struggle with the door handle, I can't see it properly and its like its stuck. What the hell?! Okay, I'm panicking. I can't open a door.

Gibbs pulls open the door and catches me as I fall sideways out of the car. Who knew that being shot in the arm could make you lose so much blood? Oh, he's carrying me through the emergency room doors now. Yelling at someone. I'm so tired.

I grumble as he shakes me awake, I'm so close to his face I can see every line on it. And somehow my arm is around his neck. I try to remove it but he pulls it back.

"You're getting blood on your shirt." I mumble.

He's so warm and cosy it makes me even sleepier. I didn't realise he was so muscular. He's carrying me as if I weigh nothing at all. I rest my head on his chest, kinda cherishing the moment. The nurses are going a little nuts around me, something about a gun shot wound.

Next thing you know they're laying me on one of those rolly white beds. Gibbs is having a few serious words with the nurse but all I can think is; where the hell are you people taking me. "Gibbs?" I call out. Don't leave me here, what's going on. One of the white clad women sidles up to me and slides a needle into my arm.

"Hey!" What is she playing at? I try to fight with her, ripping the needle out of my vein, I try to get off the bed. Why isn't Gibbs helping me? Where am I? I fall from the table onto the floor, didn't realise my legs weren't working, Oh my god that hurts. What's wrong with my arm? Now there's blood pouring from my unbandaged arm.

Oh yeah, I got shot. So why is my other arm bleeding?

Three nurses advance on me, pushing me back onto the bed, holding me down. I'm so scared. Gibbs is suddenly above me, telling them to go away. I plead with him.

"What's going on?" I whimper, struggling. They've tied me down. "What?" I trail off. Everything is so cloudy.

"It's alright. I'm right here. You've been shot. These nurses have to give you something for the pain." He's lying, I can tell by the look in his eyes. But I trust him. So I stop struggling with the bonds and I allow them to wheel me away from him. I'm so confused, there's a million question rising in my head and things are not making sense.

And now I allow myself to slide into the deep dark pool of black and my eyes close and I give in.


	3. Wake

The world appears through thin slits, all bright lights and foreign noises. I can feel the drug they've given me pulsing through my veins and I desperately try to remember if I've been captured or whether I know where I am in some deep dark recess of my psyche.

I shut my eyes again and listen intently for a noise I recognize. There is movement to my left, I hear shuffling. Deep in my mind a memory screams through the silence. Shot in the arm, in Gibbs' car, Hospital.

My eyes flick open at my command and adjust to the light above my bed. I stare at the ceiling for less then a second before I remember the noise at my side and turn my head wearily towards it.

"Please tell me it's still Monday night." I practically beg him, my voice is raspy and my throat is dry.

He smiles at me over his coffee. "Welcome back." Gibbs stands up from his chair and lowers his coffee. It's really good to see his face, feels like I've been asleep for days.

"It's Tuesday, fourteen hundred hours." He informs me. I try to prop myself up but I cant bend either of my elbows so I fall back onto the pillows. My left arm is held fast and throbs like crazy and my right arm is full of needles. My eyes flick over the machines and drips I'm hooked up to. He hands me a cup of water but I give him a frustrated look, "I can't bend my arms." I say pathetically.

So he brings the cup to my lips and I take a huge gulp. And nod my head at him to put the cup back down. I lick the excess water from my lips.

"All this for a flesh wound?" I ask incredulously. Looking at the needles protruding from my flesh I remember an important fact about the night before, and now I understand why my knees hurt.

"I hope I didn't injure any of the nurses." I say apologetically as he helps me sit up, realizing what I was trying to do before.

"No, you only hurt yourself." A hint of a smile I think is in his voice. Laughing at my fighting spirit not at my pain.

Then he stands over me with his coffee, not moving or blinking. I give him a puzzled glance and enquire as to whether my room has cable. That merits a slight smile from the boss.

"So did you get what you needed last night?" I ask him, really wanting to know what the director had said about me being shot on a mission that was unapproved. At least, I think it was unapproved. It wasn't the kind of thing I can see Director Shepherd going for.

"Yes." He says grimly. "But I also had one of my team injured. Thought you weren't going to make it for a second there." I detect sarcasm in his last statement and I fake a glare at him.

"You up to telling me what happened?" He asks.

"Sure." I don't want to be treated like an invalid; I'm already annoyed at needing his help. I describe my journey to the forest to him, "Then a man came out of the trees and but a gun to my neck," I show him where, there's a definite bruise there too. "He told me to drop my weapon, which I did, and when he pushed me forward to walk ahead of him I pretended to trip." I continued with my recollection of events. Gibbs nodded as I spoke.

I gave him a brief description of the man I killed and I mentally added the man to the number of people I've killed in my lifetime.

One hundred and Twenty-three. I sigh inwardly, no one but me knows that number. Before I joined NCIS I was an assassin, so the bodies seem to pile up even when you're young. I wonder if Gibbs has any idea about my past.

Gibbs is still standing there watching me think. "That's it." I say as though he doesn't know, because he's looking at me weird.

He lays a hand on my shoulder and I look at it severely and then into his face, which is unexpectedly, close to mine. I draw back. He's still not saying anything, and I know he does that to make the person sweat about what he's thinking and what he's about to say. So, I am wondering what on earth could have gotten into him, and I cannot for the life of me read his face. I speculate as to what the appropriate way to respond to this close proximity is.

I decide that silent patience is the answer to my own question and so I stare back into his unblinking eyes, mirroring his expression.

Finally he breaks the silence, "You had me worried." That's a bit dramatic so I laugh softly. "It would take a lot more then a flesh wound to get rid of me Boss." I purposely say boss to remind him of our working relationship only because I'm unnerved by his being so close to me.

He stays where he is for a few moments more before standing up straight. I know he did that so that his authority would be known, it's what he does. "Don't worry me like that again." He says characteristically as though he can order me not to worry him, as though it's a perfectly natural request.

"So how long til I can get out of here?" I wave my needled arm at the machines. He takes a gulp of his coffee before he answers me. "The doctor says a couple of hours."

Sigh. This is going to be so boring! I want to get back to work, get back to my desk and do something constructive. "Can't you get me out of here now?"

His eyes widen, feigning surprise at the question but I know he knows what I'm thinking. He tilts his head and returns to his chair. "The doctor will be back in a minute" he says enjoying my inability to move and the expression of distaste on my face.


	4. Whiskey

I'm back in Gibbs' car on my way home, to my annoyance. I don't want to go home, I want to go to work and carry on with the case that got me shot.

Tony had come to visit me with a bunch of roses, I tried not to smile at him but he's won me over completely. I'd probably do anything for him but I'd never admit it. Abby dropped by with a black teddy, she told me all about the bullet I'd been shot with. She's a good girl. A good, honest, warm girl.

"Is this really necessary?" I say darkly with my arms folded, staring straight ahead.

"You need to rest. You don't have permission to be sick." He replies evenly.

"I've slept enough for one day! I don't need rest. You wouldn't tell Dinozzo to go home if he'd been shot. This is because I'm a woman isn't it." I accuse him irrationally. Better tone it down though. I shouldn't have just said that to him, but half of me might actually believe that.

Gibbs takes a look at my face and then returns his eyes to the road ahead. There is a different tension in the car now compared with last night. It's not nervous it's me not wanting to bend to his authority and him wanting to retain it.

I cannot see me coming out on top here; there is no way he's going to let me come into work today. Especially not after that indictment, now if he does allow me it will be like admitting to it. I should really learn to think before I speak. I lean my head against the window.

A few seconds pass.

"I didn't mean that." I say instead of saying I'm sorry. I rubbed my temples, that morphine really packs a punch. I hate apologies only because it means I've made a mistake.

The tension seems to ease as we pull into my driveway. I don't expect him to come inside or anything so I gingerly open the door and step out of the vehicle. I pick up my bag from under the seat where I left it last night and pause to say my thank you as I remove my keys from their pocket. But to my amazement he steps out of the car and takes the keys gently from my hand.

I follow him up the path to my front door, trying not to be nervous. I keep a straight face apart from a slightly apologetic and thankful smile. He unlocks the door for me and places the keys on the table beside the door in the hallway.

It's about to get dark out and I'm starving for some food that doesn't arrive in a plastic cup. I hesitate as he stands in the doorway waiting for me to do or say something. He actually looks comfortable in a situation that I find completely uncomfortable and I envy the way he does that.

"Do you want to come in? I'm going to order pizza because I'm too tired to cook." I ask him with a laugh trying to ease my own nervousness, "It's a long drive back to headquarters." I say as an excuse in case he thinks that I'm inviting him in for something more.

Gibbs seems to consider my offer for a moment and a look passes across him face. I know he's about to decline. So as he opens his mouth to speak I say "Well no pressure," taking a step into the house. I shrug. When the look leaves his face in is replaced by determination I know I'm in.

Instead of answering verbally he moves forward, I stand aside and let him into my house. Thankfully I'm a complete neat freak. Think alphabetized DVD's and straight lines. Every room has a colour theme and nothing is mismatched.

I walk ahead to the kitchen allowing him time to move around freely. "Make yourself at home." I call down that hall. "Feel free to look around." I pull out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. Dialing the number for pizza I don't know what he likes. When I call out "What toppings?" he doesn't reply for a moment. "Whatever you're having."

I get the impression that he's a Chinese food kind of man not quite the pizza type. I order my pizzas and hang up the phone. I'm not surprised to see Gibbs leaning on the doorframe watching me.

"Whiskey?" I ask. My bandaged arm is annoying me, it's so frustrating to have only one arm. Gibbs steps into the room and pours me one and then one for himself. Gentleman. I'm glad he doesn't protest to me drinking so soon after getting off the drugs the hospitals given me. But I think he is happy to let me learn from my own mistakes rather then badger me.

Seated in the lounge on separate single seats the atmosphere is comfortable. There's no small talk required so I get straight into it. "Any progress on the case while I've been out of action?"

"You're still out of action," he gives me a warning tone with a hint of playfulness. "no progress because the director is putting it on hold." It must have been bad if he can't talk her out of it. I try my luck in asking the real question, "Did she know we were out last night?" He looks over his glass at me as he takes another sip.

His eyes tell me no but his mouth doesn't move. 'Oh', I mouth. Leaning back in my chair I feel blissfully at ease with the universe. The whiskey warming my throat and numbing my mind and the pizza on the table half gone. I can feel his eyes on me. And it isn't a bad feeling.

'Oy!' I chastise myself. That's not the way to be thinking about your boss. What am I doing in my lounge room with him sharing a pizza and a bottle? I rationalize it; He was nice enough to stay with me when I was shot and bring me home so I'm returning the favour. Whatever, I should put this whiskey down before what I'm thinking comes out of my mouth.


	5. Woken

Chapter 5 Gibbs and you

I'm awake but I'm still too tired to open my eyes. That bottle of whiskey has kept me warm all night. Wait…what time is it? I force myself to open my eyes and check my watch. Five a.m. What the hell happened last night? I search my memory as I close my eyes again, allowing myself to drift back into a half sleep. There's ages until I have to get ready for work.

The pain in my arm helps me remember the hospital, then there's a black area in my memory. I do recall inviting Gibbs in, offering him whiskey and downing half the bottle. I wriggle around because I'm hot. Where am I? I ask my limbs and flick my eyes open.

I'm on the couch they tell me. What am I doing in the lounge? I look up at the side table and see the bottle standing there proudly containing only a few drops of whiskey. I blink to try and clear my thoughts but it's still a haze. My neck hurts from how I was sleeping, caused by trying to save myself the pain by sleeping on my arm I suppose. I look down at the bandages.

My heart freezes and I stop breathing as my eyes adjust to the dim lighting and I see the arm draped over my waist. An arm. On me. I recognize that arm, Id recognize it anywhere. No doubt that arm is connected to its owner… who is lying behind me, pressed up against me and probably choking on my hair.

Swallowing hard I do my best to keep silent. I can't wake him up because I need time to process. I mentally slap myself for not noticing earlier, or letting myself get into this situation in the first place. I stare at the coffee table. Pizza crusts lay in the empty boxes, I hate the crust… no cheese.

What! I'm thinking about pizza at a time like this! Why aren't I stressing more? Did I even do anything with him… did he do anything with me?

Okay, okay… I have to think. What do I do?

I clamp my mouth shut as he pulls me close by wrapping his arm tightly around my waist. I cringe for him because I can't see him doing that to me willingly when he was awake; I have to think of a way to get out of this. What I fear most is his reaction when he wakes up. Disgust will kill me, regret is logical, no regret? I don't know.

Maybe I could just fall back to sleep and let him deal with the whole waking up first issue. It's actually kind of comfortable here. Under his arm. Under his strong, warm, muscular arm. Hmm, maybe this isn't so bad. I could get used to this. Yes, I think I've made my decision… leave the decisions up to him.

So I close my eyes and let the corners of my mouth creep upwards in a mischievous, sinful kind of way. And just to test my luck, I nestle further into his body, his firm chest behind me. As if in a reflex response his arm snakes all the way around my waist so that I'm tight up against him, his breath sending chills down my spine. At first my eyes snap open as he pulls me in but I remind myself who he is and where I am and they slide back into place. I lie there, eyes shut but still awake until my brain cannot stay awake any longer and I glide back to my dreams.


	6. The bedroom

Chapter 6 Gibbs and You

I wake up disorientated and sore as Gibbs moves behind me, his smell surrounding me like a warm hug. I'm about to open my eyes when I remember that I've decided to leave all this up to him. He hasn't been shot after all… I've lost a lot of blood, my decision may not be as sound as his…

He's definitely waking up because he's trying to turn over onto me and he's moving around an awful lot. Suddenly he stops moving and there is quiet behind me. My eyes move beneath my eyelids as I hold my breath waiting to see what he does. I think he's just realized whom he's woken up with. That's enough to send my stomach into a frenzy. His arm is still securely around my waist, he hasn't tried to move it.

My heart has stopped beating in anticipation of two things rejection and disregard; two things I am hoping he won't subject me to.

He's still not moving so I decide to move him along slightly. Daringly I roll my body backwards into him over my good arm. Pretending to be asleep I stir slightly as I'm prevented from moving further by his chest.

He slides his right arm from my waist, and I feel my heart break. But, before I have time to even consider what this means, he slides his left arm behind my head and places my wounded arm on my chest, moving back slightly so that I'm laying flat. Then he puts his right arm under my knees and lifts me effortlessly from the couch, holding me closely to his shirtless chest.

How did he get shirtless? And please tell me I'm wearing clothes.

I'm guessing he's carrying me to the bedroom. And I'm overcome by his tender kindness.

But only for a moment because it occurs to me that he's only doing this so that I wake up alone and in my own bed so he won't have to deal with waking up first. So I make another decision.

We reach the bedroom and he lays me gently on the bed, my arm still entangled with his. As he does so I lift my eyelids sleepily and give him a tired smile. I can see the instantaneous flicker in his eye as he realizes that I know and then it is gone.

I blink several times and look up into his eyes as he settles me on the cushions. I try to sit up and forgetfully use my left arm to force myself upwards. I wince in pain and my throat lets out a small cry. He immediately forces his hand on my back and pushes me forward while lifting my arm up.

I give him a pained smile of thanks and he pulls the excess cushions from the other side of the bed and places them behind me before pushing me gently onto them.

I let out a troubled sigh and wait.

I have a flash back to last night, with Gibbs slapping his knee and laughing beside me. He's got the bottle in his hand now, looks like he had a few too many as well. That makes me feel less guilty.

I wonder what we got up to last night. I wonder if he remembers what we got up to last night.


	7. Leave

Chapter 7 Gibbs and You

He knows he has to deal with it now. But for some reason he stays silent. I guess he doesn't know what to say, I don't know what to say. So we don't say anything. He just stands there beside me staring into my eyes reading my thoughts.

Goodness me, he is shirtless… so very very shirtless. Luckily I've retained most of my outer clothing. But I have no idea where on earth my pants are. At least my knickers help me to have some kind of modesty. How I lost my pants remains a mystery.

"So," I say, drawing a breath before speaking again, hoping that my eyes are telling him that I'm taking the situation lightly, "How much do you remember?"

The corner of one side of his mouth curls up and he bobs his head as if in silent laughter at the thoughts entering his head. Or is that the mental pictures?

"Every detail." He drew out the sentence. "Every single detail."

I don't know whether to laugh or cry or blush! This is not the reaction I had expected from Jethro Gibbs. My boss. MY BOSS. This is out of control; I cannot believe this is happening to me.

The look on my face seems to give me away because he loses him smile somewhere between my uncovered legs and my worried eyes. I feel queasy, like I'm on a boat and I hope the whiskey doesn't repeat itself. I bring a shaky hand to my forehead, feeling the need to take things slow and gentle.

His face is set and I know he's about to say something profound, its that look on his face, I can't even put my finger on what it is that tells me so. Maybe I want him to go back to being light-hearted and joking about this. What is he going to say?

"I have to go to work or Dinozzo will beat me." He says with a straight face. That's what he put his serious face on to say? I ask myself in amazement. "I'll stop by tonight and check up on you. Then we can talk." He adds the last part as more of an after thought slash question as if to ask me whether this is something we need to talk about.

"Yeah sure." I reply lightly. I have no idea what there is to talk about but I'm actually happy to be taking the day off now because I don't have to spend the day looking over my computer screen at him trying to remember in vain the things we did or did not do last night. And also my arm is killing me! "What time do you think you'll be over?" I only ask so that I won't be asleep or hitting the bottle due to some memory risen from the haze when he shows up.

"I'll come by around six." I nod my approval. He's leaving my bedroom, presumably to get some clothes on. When he comes back he's fully clothed and has his keys in his hand ready to go. Then he does something as unexpected as getting drunk with his coworker and doing goodness knows what with her on her couch. He bends over in his sober state and kisses me gently on the cheek. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks, feels like the morning after to me. He acts casually and says goodbye but I detect a hint of caution and fear in his movements.

And long after he's gone I can still feel his unshaven whiskers pressing into my soft skin. I bring my hand up to my cheek but dare not touch the spot; instead my hand hovers over the area. I don't want this feeling to go away.

So now I have all day to try to remember what we did last night. And to work through these feelings for my boss.


	8. Kiss

Chapter 8 Gibbs and you

By the time he lets himself in my front door I've recovered the various fragments of my very sore memory. I've also replayed this mornings events over in my head about a million times. And I've thought about every single thought that could have possibly gone through his head during that kiss.

I'm stretched out on the couch in my fluffy dressing gown. I'm not wearing much under it but judging from the scattered memories of last night none of it will be new to him. That thought makes me laugh quietly as he enters the lounge.

I recognize the bags in his hand as Chinese and immediately scramble to help him with them.

He always gets far too much. But, according to him too much is better then not enough.

Low music is playing in the background, my way of passing time. I've been going insane sitting at home all day waiting for him to come back. Thinking about the case that I'm not involved in.

I grab one of the larger bags off him with my free hand, I'm getting used to this bandage. He greets me with a glare. He's so old fashioned with his ideas about men carrying things. But I love that about him.

Plonking the bag onto the coffee table in front of the lounge I sit down heavily and lean back only slightly. There's really only one reason that I'm sitting on the couch. The same couch that we occupied last night. And that is that I'm hoping to stir his memories, assuming he has some, from last night in order to get some kind of reaction.

I wonder if it would be more mature to pretend nothing happened then to bring it up. He still hasn't said anything. Instead he sits down beside me after removing his jacket and begins to unroll the tops of the bags.

I don't interfere with his ritual opening of the Chinese food. I've learnt not to.

I try in vain to read his thoughts as he sifts through the bags, pulling one article out after another.

He turns to me, I assume he knows I'm watching hi,

"What'd I miss on the case?" I ask innocently, a cover easily seen through. But he plays along. It's a competition now to see who will break first and make a comment on the events of last night. There's no doubt in my mind that I'll lose said competition.

"We broke the cell, with Ziva's help, I got enough information last night to put a stop to a significant number of Hamas suicide bombings." For a man of few words Jethro was doing strangely well with the length of his sentences. And now I know he has memories of last night as I do.

I know because his tone is softer then usual, he can't maintain direct and constant eye contact for very long and because a look crosses his face as his eyes take me in.

I decide to lighten the mood.

"Stop looking at me like that." I say teasingly.

"Like what?" he says, feigning innocence and purposely failing.

"Like you've seen me naked." I can't help but break into a smile.

He too smiles. But it's too much like regret for my liking.

Any normal male would most likely shuffle in his seat at this moment. But Gibbs is not normal.

"Chicken chow mien?" he enquires. Pushing the container towards me as he digs into the anonymous white box in his left hand.

I don't reply, instead I pop the lid of the container open with one hand and grab a fork. Bending over the box, because I can't pick it up with my left hand, I try to jab a piece of chicken with my utensil. It's difficult with one hand and I can feel myself getting frustrated. But, I don't want to ask for help.

In my irritation I poke the box inaccurately, causing it to tip over on the table. I can't stop it falling because the fork is in my free hand. I curse bitterly and drop the fork onto the table.

Without thinking I reach forward with my left hand to clean up the mess and pain tears through my shoulder. I freeze in place and cringe, gritting my teeth because of the pain.

Gibbs immediately drops his box onto the table and lays a hand on my good shoulder.

I try not to let the pain show on my face but I fail. I can tell he knows.

The look on his face says "Don't even try to clean that up." Or perhaps, "Don't hurt yourself." Or maybe "Are you okay?" But in some dark and secret recess of my mind it just might say, "I love you and I'm concerned for your wellbeing."

I blink to rid the hopeful thought from my mind. But it still lingers there.

I feel so pathetic and vulnerable now and I can feel my cheeks turning red as my face grows hot.

He slides his arm behind my back and I lean on it, I have the biggest most unbelievable urge to curl up against his chest with his arm draped over my shoulder.

I let the breath I'd been holding out as he rests me onto the cushions.

He makes sure I'm comfortable and then does something which makes me both blush and smile at the same time. He grabs a new box, which smells so good, and stabs a few things inside with my fork before looking up and lifting the food to my mouth.

I let it hover there as I stare into his eyes, deciphering his emotions. He;s amused but caring.

So I open my mouth and accept the food sliding if off the fork with my teeth, eyes locked with his the entire time.

He lets the fork drop into the box and moves towards me. Now I'm leaning forward as if drawn towards him by an invisible thread.

It's an incredible moment as I shut my eyes and out lips lock together. A moment which quickly escalates from a tender kiss to a passionate electric pash.

His hands sneakily move behind my head and back ensuring I don't move away. My hands seem to have a mind of their own as they clutch and grasp and pull him closer. I keep forgetting to breathe, to think.

This is so surreal, so wrong! But I don't care. It feels so right. I don't want it to end; even the pain in my arm seems to disappear as we share this moment.

All thoughts and reasoning dissipates in the heat, the fast pace breathing and the touching of skin.


	9. Morning

Chapter 9 The final chapter

* * *

The world reappears several hours later and the first thing I realize is that not only am I naked but that I have no hangover. A sign that I did what I did last night willingly and in my right mind.

Last nights events are crystal clear, not so surprisingly.

This morning as I turn over Gibbs' arms are wrapped around me and his eyes are open.

"Watching me sleep?" I ask, my voice gravely. I smile teasingly.

This was his way of telling that the previous nights drunken sex wasn't meaningless to him. That he'd done this sober and he hadn't run off in the morning. He wasn't regretting his actions and that made me feel like a huge weight was lifted from me.

He move so that I'm comfortable and I reach up and run the tips of my fingers across his stubble. His breath makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He caresses my shoulder gently, his eyes warm and soft.

It occurs to me that I've never seen him so peaceful. It's like all the horrible things he's seen are so far away that theyir tentacles don't even reach the outskirts of his thoughts. His eyes are still deep and full of imagery but his face is unconcerned and his eyes are calm.

"Beautiful." He says, stroking my cheek.

I chuckle at his statement.

"Ruggedly handsome." I reply, giving his stubble another rub, grinning.

I break the moment by stealing a look at the clock. Gibbs follows my eyes and gives me a funny look. But he says nothing.

I begin to scramble out of bed but he catches me by the shoulders.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks but he knows perfectly well where. He's only asking because he's about to tell me that I'm not allowed.

"I'm going to get ready for work." I say, my legs half way out of bed.

I don't attempt to cover my body, there's nothing wrong with it and he's already seen it all.

"No you're not."

"Yes I am." I'm determined not to stay in this house a day longer. I give him a glare which dares him to challenge me as I pull away. But he hangs on and I feel that familiar pain shoot up my clavicle and shoulder blade. My facial expression changes from teasing to pain in a split second. And he lets go.

Sitting up fast he gives me an almost apologetic look. But his face hardens slightly and he says, "You're not going to work this week."

My eyes flicker with pent up rage. I don't get a word out before he says, "You've been shot." Through gritted teeth, "And that means you don't come into work this week."

"But what about…" I have no excuse, "I don't want to stay at home! It's already driving me insane and its only been one day."

I almost pout. But my attitude softens as I realize why I don't want to stay home. "It's too quiet here. I get lonely."

Ah the truth. Refreshing.

He leans in and kisses me gently on the lips, his hand on the side of my tilted face as I sit on the edge of the bed. And I know that the answer is no.

I press my lips into his after a few seconds, not allowing him to pull away. The passion from last night seems to fire up again and I push him down onto the bed, our lips locked the entire way down. Sitting atop him with my back arched I send my tongue up his neck and brush it across him lips. His own body almost trembles with anticipation. I feel so in control in this position. I can do anything I want. Ignoring the pain in my arm I place my hands on either side of his body and kiss him slowly, working up his chest and hovering over his mouth until he reaches up and kisses me hard. His hands slide over my bare back and my reaction is to look through my eyelashes seductively at him and slide my body down his.

But Jethro doesn't like to be submissive in any area of his life. He securely holds me by the waist and as soon as I feel his muscles beneath me I'm flipped over, his weight pressing down on me. I kiss him roughly, wishing I could feel as I do now forever. He entwines his fingers with mine and presses my hands above my head against the mattress.

I think we're going to be late for work.

* * *

And that's the end of the story! I appreciate all the reviews I've gotten for this story, thanks a bundle. And I think I might make another first person type story soon. Thanks for reading! 


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